Griffin Hawk and The Journey to Hogwarts
by Jonathon Strouss
Summary: A young boy of Slytherin Heritige begins his long awaited journey to Hogwarts and finds himself in the process. This story takes place just prior to J.K. Rowling's third installment of the Harry Potter series.


Chapter 1: Unexpected Things  
  
The Hawk estate on Diagon Alley was a rather complicated place to live. The  
alley was always bustling with activity and customers could drop by the shop at any time,  
day or night. Owl Exports was nestled in between two other shops and slightly receded  
further from the street than the others. The shop was a rather dusty place with a few  
cobwebs strung here and there for decoration. Customers would enter through the main  
door and drop off their packages and letters at the counter. The items would then be  
loaded into a dumbwaiter and hoisted up to the tower where the Owlery was located.   
Packages were shipped the moment of their arrival. There were national owl exporting   
business all around England, but none of them guaranteed same moment shipping as this  
one did.  
Hawk Manor was located directly beneath the shop, descending deep beneath the  
ground. In a side room behind the counter was a wide trap door which lead to the Foyer.   
The ladder which led to first family level was a rather tricky obstacle. One day it had  
simply decided that standing motionless was beneath it. It had a notorious tendency to  
wiggle and twist at the most inopportune times. Over the past few years it had become  
exceedingly difficult to tread upon.   
Vincent and Rhonwyn Hawk took great pride in the History of their family. The  
fact that they lived in a manor suggested their wealth and prestige in the wizarding world.   
It was common knowledge that they could trace their lineage all the way back into the  
medieval ages. This fact was well known simply because of the family tree which grew in  
the center of the shop. Every customer had to walk around the massive thing in order to  
reach the counter. Most times the tree was silent, but it had a tendency from to time to  
time to quiver, shudder, and bark its displeasure about this or that. With so many  
personalities and voices in each branch, it was difficult to make a distinction between them  
when a heated argument erupted. There were times when a person felt as if they were in  
London station, what with all the conversation going on through the rustling leaves.   
The ladder and tree were not, of course, the only oddities in the house. It would  
be unwise to neglect to mention a small frayed blanket in a corner of the owlery in which  
sleeps Jinky, a rather leathery looking house elf with large ears that looked like bat wings  
and eyes the size of tennis balls. Jinky had more than enough to do to keep himself  
occupied. Between keeping the manor cleaned and meals prepared, he was also  
responsible for assigning packages to owls for delivery. Jinky was constantly Apparating  
around trying to keep up with everything.  
And then there was Grandma Grindy who lived in the deeper levels of the manor.   
She was a hunched old crone of a ghost who drifted through walls and spent most of her  
time visiting the pictures of various ancestors. From time to time she would also visit the  
family tree to scold Bartlebee, her late husband for accidentally mixing a poisonous  
concoction instead of a healing potion and accidentally killing himself.  
When visiting the lowest level of the manor, it was common to hear the goblin  
carts of Gringotts bank rushing beneath the floor. And on occasion if one listened  
carefully, the dull roar of a dragon or two could be heard guarding the vaults as well. At  
least that was the rumor.   
At the moment, Griffin was seated on a stool in the owlry, gazing out the window.   
The street below was bustling with families in search of their supplies for the upcoming  
year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Jinky was busy unloading the  
dumbwaiter and attaching bits and bobs to the legs of various owls for transport. Griffin  
had received his own letter a few days ago and was eager to begin gathering his school  
supplies. He glanced down at the list of supplies he'd need for his first year.  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
  
UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags  
  
COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
by Quentin Trimble  
  
OTHER EQUIPMENT  
1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales  
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad  
  
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS  
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS  
  
It was all so incredibly wicked. Griffin had never been more excited about  
anything in his entire life. He was full of questions about Hogwarts and took every  
opportunity to bombard his parents with them. And when they were tired of answering  
questions he'd visit the family tree in the shop. The Hawk Family Tree stood about 10 feet  
high and was covered in branches which stretched out above the counter. Each leaf  
contained the personality of a unique member of the Hawk family over the ages. The  
oldest belonging to Feydric Hawk who was alive during the rein of King Henry V. Most  
of his ancestors had been around before Hogwarts, but those who had attended the school  
were frequently pelted with multitudes of questions. Below the tree, the kitchen was  
draped in roots. Pots and pans hung from them as though the roots were a planned  
decorating technique.  
Griffin was an inquisitive young boy of 11. He was slender of build and a bit short  
for his age with short blond hair and hazel eyes. His mother was always rattling on about  
what a handsome young boy he was when he combed his hair and tucked his shirt in. But  
as a boy of 11 he never combed his hair unless his mum made him and he rarely tucked in  
his shirt. The bathroom mirror was always calling him Mr. Scruffy, but he didn't care.  
"Would young Master Hawk care for a sandwich?"  
Griffin turned to find Jinky with a tray clutched in his hands. He smiled and took  
the plate and goblet of pumpkin juice.  
"Thanks, Jinky."  
"Young Master is welcome," Jinky bowed. "If young Master Hawk does not  
mind, may Jinky as a question?"  
Griffin took a bite of the sandwich and nodded.  
"Is you looking forward to attending Hogwarts, Sir?"  
Griffin nodded, taking another bite of the sandwich.  
Jinky smiled, but his ears lowered a bit. "Jinky is happy for young Master, but will  
miss him while he is gone."  
Griffin set the sandwhich aside and took a quick drink of pumpkin juice to wash it  
down.  
"Jinky," Griffin mumbled behind another bite of sandwich, "I won't be gone  
forever. I'll be home for holidays and we can keep in touch by owl if you'd like."  
A slight look of horror spread across Jinky's face. "Young Master would consider  
writing to Jinky?"  
Griffin paused a moment, trying to think of something to say. House Elves were  
not accustomed to acts of kindness and were frightened of any mention that they may be  
equals.  
"Well, I can let you know if I need anything from home. Or if I'm in the mood for  
cookies or something. Then you could always send them to me by owl."  
Jinky's eyes brightened, "Oh, Jinky would be more than happy to help young  
Master with this. Thank you, young Master Hawk."  
Griffin nodded and took another large bite of the sandwich. "I'm really excited  
about going to Hogwarts, Jinky. I'm finally going to learn some of the things my parents  
won't tell me."  
"Jinky has heard much of Hogwarts school, but Jinky has never been there. Many  
strange things be going on there, Sir."  
Griffin smiled, stood, and began to walk around the room flailing his arms as he  
spoke passionately, "That's all just a part of the adventure, Jinky. To make friends with  
other kids my age. To own my own wand and learn how to use it properly. To never  
know if some foul smelly creature is going to sneak into my bedroom and drip drool all  
over my sheets!"  
As he continued, he picked up a dowel rod which was used to attach packages for  
some of the larger owls and began swinging it like a sword at an imaginary beast. His  
other hand, still holding the sandwich was flailing around as counterbalance to the dowel  
rod.  
"Take that you foul smelly creature! I am Griffin Hawk of a long line of Wizards.   
You will never defeat me! I am an all powerful wizard! Take that and that and that!"  
Jinky covered his eyes as the owls began to screech in anger and frustration at  
Griffin whacking the supports and walls with the rod until a shrill voice made its own  
screeching from below.  
"Griffin! What are you doing up there?"  
He wilted, "Sorry, mum. I guess I got carried away." He peered down the hole to  
see his mother glaring up at him from below.  
"If you upset those owls to the point they wont make deliveries then I'll have your  
father deal with you."  
"Sorry, Mum."  
"It's time to come down anyway. You're father is nearly ready to take you  
shopping for your school supplies."   
Griffin had never moved so fast in his entire life. He quickly tossed the remains of  
the sandwich on the tray and had slid down the pole and thrown on his cloak before his  
mother had finished. It was time! Griffin beamed as his father stepped into the shop.   
Vincent Hawk was a tall man dressed in a gray, black striped doublet and cape.   
The hair at his temples was silver and combed strait up giving him an owlish silhouette  
against the sunlight through the window. His dull blue, piercing eyes flanked a slightly  
hooked and crooked nose. With a square jaw and chiseled features he was a powerful  
looking man.   
Amber Hawk on the other hand was rather short yet carried herself with an air of  
dignity. Thick wavy blonde hair streaked with gray draped her shoulders. She was  
dressed in an emerald green robe with a velvety pointed hat which brought out the  
powerful green color of her eyes.   
"All right, there, Griff?" Vincent asked, tipping his head down a bit.  
Griffin nodded, "All right."  
"Then let's be off." He turned to Amber giving her a soft peck on the cheek.   
"Expect us home shortly. I do not intend to make this an event which will keep us away  
for the entire afternoon." He paused, giving Griffin a slight grin, "But in the event that  
such a situation is unavoidable, we will be home in time for supper."  
"Off with you, then," Amber cooed and ushered them out the door.  
  
Diagon Alley was bustling as usual with activity. Shops lined the narrow walkway  
with loads of items displayed in the storefronts. Magic folk from all across London were  
shopping for the various bits and bobs they needed for their own wizarding purposes. A  
few shops down on the left Knockturn Alley opened up, a particularly dark place Griffin  
was never allowed to visit. And though his parents never permitted him to even speak of  
the place, he knew that from time to time his father ventured into the darkened, narrow  
alley.  
Vincent placed a hand on Griffin's shoulder and gave him a proud nod.  
"Now that you've been accepted into Hogwarts there are a few protected secrets  
that you'll be let in on. This is serious business Griffin. I know you won't let the family  
down. You'll soon be a member of Slytherin House and your membership into the circle  
will be complete."  
Griffin stared up at his father. He knew that his father was involved in a few things  
which could get the family into trouble, but Griffin wasn't sure that he wanted to know  
what they were. He simply nodded in response.  
"Good, lad. Now, why don't we visit Ollivander and pick up your new wand?"  
"Ollivanders?" Griffin grinned broadly  
Vincent smiled. "Ollivanders. Right this way."  
Together they made their way along the alley past several shops before stopping in  
front of Ollivanders.  
Once again Vincent turned to Griffin.  
"Go on inside. I'll wait here for you. You're about to receive your first wand.   
Remember, pay attention and be respectful. In with you now."  
Griffin nodded and stepped through the door. There didn't' seem to be anyone  
here. The walls were covered with shelves filled with long flat boxes. Everything was  
covered in dust and cobwebs much like Owl Exports. Griffin stepped up to the counter  
and peered behind it. Sitting along the edge was another of the flat boxes. The only  
difference was that this one looked new and was free of dust. Curiosity peeked, Griffin  
began to reach for it.  
He suddenly jumped and drew his hand back as a sliding ladder banged against the  
end of its track carrying a rather frizzled looking man with yellow eyes.  
"Ah," he said. "I wondered when I'd be visited by another Hawk."  
"You were?" Griffin asked.  
"Oh, yes."   
Mr. Ollivander stepped down and moved across the counter from Griffin. A  
measuring tape suddenly leaped from a peg on the wall and began measuring every aspect  
of Griffin's body from his head and arms to his legs and length of hair.  
"I remember the visit your mother made, many years ago, to purchase her first  
wand. Ten inch oak with unicorn hair, if I remember correctly, and I always do.  
"And my father?"  
"Vincent Hawk? No... No, I don't believe so."   
Mr. Ollivander had a severe look in his eye as he continued, "Your father, I  
believe, has the wand which has been handed down in your family for generations. That  
wand, nine and a half inches with the wing feather of a wyvern is known to be particularly  
powerful in the dark arts." He stopped and gave Griffin a sideways glance. "The wands  
you find here contain pheonix feather's, the heart-string of dragons, and unicorn hair.   
They have proven reliable over the ages. Hm...lets see..."  
The tape measure was now measuring the length of Griffin's nose and the width of  
his mouth. He pulled back, nose crinkling.  
Mr. Ollivander's fingers twiddled through the air as he looked over the shelves of  
wands... "Ah....try this. Nine-and-a-half inches, yew, with the hair from the tail of a  
unicorn." Catching sight of the tape trying to measure Griffin's tongue he frowned, "Stop  
that!"  
The wand quickly flew back to the peg on the wall and dangled, lifeless.  
Griffin held the wand tentatively and looked up at Mr. Ollivander expectantly.  
"Well," said Mr. Ollivander, "you'll have to give it a wave, Mr. Hawk!"  
And Griffin did, causing a rather antique looking snow globe to explode, scattering  
tiny shards all over the floor and splattering the wall and shelves with water and mushy  
gobs of fake snow. Griffin cringed and quickly laid the wand on the counter top.  
"Hmmm..." Ollivander hummed in thought to himself, "perhaps something else.   
Try this, 10 inches, rosewood with dragon heartstring."  
This time, with a slight wave, the ladder that Mr. Ollivander had recently vacated  
split in two like a peeled banana. Splinters of wood fell to the floor and ricocheted off the  
shelves as they cascaded to the floor.  
"Nope! We'll definitely have try another."  
Soon the counter was covered with discarded wands and empty boxes. Mr.  
Ollivander paused and scratched his eyebrow.  
"It has been quite some time since I had a customer such as you, Mr. Hawk. You  
have me completely stumped..." He placed his hand on the counter and turned to glance  
upward at the rows of remaining wands upon the shelves. He began to tap his fingers  
along the edge of counter in thought when to Griffin's surprise, the box which he had  
reached for earlier began to wiggle a bit.  
Griffin's eyes widened and he took a step back from counter. He remained fixed  
on the box as it suddenly slide across the counter toward Mr. Ollivanders hand and would  
have struck it if he hadn't raised it to rub his chin.   
"Hmmm..." Mr. Ollivander hummed, having not noticed the box, "We've tried yew  
and oak, pine, mahogany, spruce, and ash. We tried a variety of different feathers, hair,  
and string..." He placed his hand back down toward the counter and landed it on the  
mysterious box. He glanced down and his eyes suddenly narrowed... "Hmm...perhaps  
another style of wand, all together..."  
"Another style?" Griffin asked  
Mr. Ollivander pick up the box and lifted the lid, extracting a crooked wand with  
several waves in it. It almost appeared serpent-like in the way it bent and was twisted at  
the tip. Holding it up, Mr. Ollivander turned it in his hands.  
"This wand," he began, "twelve-inches made of a willow with the hair of a pacific  
mermaid, is not the type of wand one usually comes across in shops such as mine.   
Mermaids are temperamental creatures and tend not to focus on the problems of others.   
A mermaid would never give aid to a drowning wizard unless that wizard was someone  
very special indeed." He glanced at Griffin and pinched his lips back in thought. "Do you  
consider yourself a special wizard, Mr. Hawk?"  
"Special?" Griffin shrugged. "I'm just an eleven year old boy, Sir. I don't think  
there is anything special about me."  
"Time reveals many things, Mr. Hawk. Time reveals many things." He handed the  
wand to Griffin and gave him a nod.  
After taking a brief gulp Griffin raised the wand and gave it a flick. Sparks flew  
from the tip in various shades of red, green, yellow, and purple. Griffin glanced up at Mr.  
Ollivander who was rubbing the bridge of his nose with an index finger in thought.  
"Curious...Very curious. This wand was created by a friend of mine in the pacific  
basin. From what I've been told, the wood was shipped from England and the hair he  
obtained at a location near a chain of islands. I would never have considered the  
combination of mermaid and willow to be all that effective. However, since it is the wand  
that chooses the wizard, Mr. Hawk, I believe I can safely say that you, like your wand, are  
destined for unexpected things."  
  
Vincent held the new wand up, eyes narrowing as he turned it in his hand. The  
wind caught the tufts of hair at the sides of his head causing them to flutter. His cape  
billowed a bit behind him as he placed the wand back into its box and closed the lid,  
handing it back to Griffin."  
"I must say, Griffin, this is the most unusual wand I have ever seen." He drew his  
own from a leather sheath at his hip and held it up so that Griffin could see it.  
The wand was made of birch and still contained most of its white bark. It was a  
little weathered in appearance with a sleek gilded grip made of gold and silver. It was  
perfectly straight and solid looking.   
"I was given this wand," Vincent began, "as my father was dieing. It has been in  
our family for generations. It has served us well and will continue to do so in the future."   
He pointed the wand at the box in Griffin's hand. "I wish you the best with that wand,  
Griffin, though I do wish you had purchased something that had been tested. Wands with  
unusual cores tend to be... temperamental." He gave his own wand a beady glance and  
tucked it back into its sheath.  
Griffin's nose wrinkled a bit, "Doesn't the wand choose the wizard?"  
Vincent's eyes and lips drew into a shrewd expression. "Yes, that is what they say,  
isn't it?" He turned and began to lead Griffin back up the street. "The wand does choose  
the wizard. However, it is the core of the individual which determines the core of the  
wand. I don't know what to make of this Mermaid business. I don't know that I like it. I  
don't know that I like it at all."  
Griffin lowered his head and tucked the narrow box into his cloak. Mr. Ollivander  
had been uncertain about the wand himself but Griffin was eager to get to school and try it  
out. He really didn't care what it was made of at all. He was just happy to have one of his  
own now. There would be no more waving around enchanted toy wands anymore. Now  
he had the real thing.  
As he looked up, his eyes bulged a bit in fear. His father was leading him right into  
the entrance of Knockturn Alley. It was a dirty alley which descended down a sloped  
walkway and was lined with rickety shops and crumbling storefronts. The people were  
mostly hooded and filthy looking. It was like walking into a leper colony. Griffin  
shuddered. He really didn't want to come in here, but it was too late. His father seemed  
to know exactly where they were going and was looking down his nose at those they  
passed, brushing aside the occasional miscreant who didn't have sense enough to move out  
the his path.  
Vincent mumbled something about "bloody miscreants" and continue to plod on.  
In was all Griffin could do, just to keep up. People kept bumping against him and  
touching his cloak. It smelled of disease and death down here. Griffin had passed the  
entrance of the alley several times, but had never looked into it before. He'd heard of too  
many horror stories about the fates of kids who'd ventured into it for a bit of adventure.  
"In, here. Quickly, now."  
Griffin found himself inside a rather dark shop lit by a few candles which hung on  
chandeliers and wall sconces and layered a few surface areas. The floor, walls, and ceiling  
were rotted and smelled of mold. The items on display in the shop were nearly all covered  
with thick trap door spider webs. There was barely any color in the shop at all. It was as  
if the color had been drained out of the place by the dread which seemed to permeate the  
room.   
A boney shop keeper stood behind the counter dressed in tattered robes with a  
moth eaten stocking cap upon his head. His face and hands were filthy and as he smiled  
upon noticing their entrance, his large rotted teeth were revealed. Griffin drew back a bit.   
He smell the man's breath clear across the room... Or maybe he was smelling something  
else in the room. The odor caused a bit of nausea to settle in Griffin as Vincent passed  
him and stepped up to the counter. Griffin could see the floorboards giving a little as  
Vincent stepped on them. It was like walking on sponges in here from the rot and fungus.  
"Aaahhhhhh.... Mister Hawk," the shop keeper exclaimed, arms wide. "I wasn't  
expecting you until tomorrow. Welcome! Welcome! What may I do for you?"  
Vincent glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to find Griffin standing there and  
then turned. "Griffin..."  
Griffin quickly moved foreword to his father's side. He really, really, really didn't  
want to be in here anymore. There were all sorts of taxidermied creatures in here, many  
of which Griffin had only heard stories about. There were wolves, dogs, pixies, cats,  
vultures, eagles, boars, bears, grindylows, ravens, and the list went on.   
"My son will be attending Hogwarts this year, Rudiger, and will need a few special  
items which I believe you can provide."  
Griffin unfolded his list which he drew from his pocket. He didn't see anything in  
this shop that was on his list. He needed a cauldron, a telescope, and some brass scales.   
None that was in here. He didn't even see any books laying about. All of this stuff was  
gruesome. He could see thumbscrews and shackles everywhere. An iron maiden stood in  
the window display. Against another wall was a guillotine. Next to the counter, not very  
far away was what looked suspiciously like a man-eating-plant.   
Rudiger gasped and quickly picked up one of the thumbscrews from a display case  
on the counter. "How about one of these? This particular thumbscrew was a treasured  
possession of one Vlad the Impaler, otherwise known as Count Dracula --"  
Vincent held up his hand, interrupting the sales pitch.  
"My son has no interest in your torture devices, Rudiger, he is not a squib."  
Rudiger drew back with a gasp and his eyes suddenly squeezed into a glare. "How  
dare you call me that! How dare you come into my shop and accuse me --" The man was  
unable to continue. He was shaking with rage and couldn't find the words.  
Vincent calmly sighed and wiped his glove across the counter top lifting dust  
which he rubbed between finger and thumb. "I am not accusing you of anything, Rudiger,  
I am simply stating that my son has no need of that type of device. However, if you would  
like us to leave..."  
"No...No, I don't want you to leave," the man had calmed down a bit, but he was  
still agitated. A squib was a pureblood with no magical abilities and was an extremely  
personal embarrassment. "What did you have in mind?"  
"I believe you still have the medallion?"  
"Medallion? What medallion?" Rudiger's eyes narrowed once again.  
"I'm not in the mood for your usual banter, Rudiger," Vincent said calmly, a rather  
wicked and vicious look in his eyes as they settled upon the man on the other side of the  
counter. "You either have the medallion or you do not. However, I do home for your  
sake that you have not sold it. I left it in your possession for safe keeping. I would hate  
to think that you would double-cross an...old...friend...."  
"Oh, that box," exclaimed the man, "I-- I have it here. Just one m- moment and I'll  
go get it for you...just a moment." And he disappeared into a back room.  
Griffin slowly looked away from his father. He had never seen or heard his father  
appear so threatening. It was like watching a total stranger. His eyes fell on the  
taxidermied body of a strange looking creature which Had the head and bill of a duck, the  
body and tail of a beaver, and webbed feet at the ends of 4 stubby little legs. This was  
definitely a place he never wanted to visit again.  
Rudiger returned with a small latched box and quickly handed it to Vincent.  
"There it is, just as you left it." He smiled weakly and scratched the back of his  
head and sniffled.  
"Very well."  
"Vincent reached into a pocket and tossed a small pouch of galleons onto the  
counter. "Here is your final payment for keeping it safe... I assume you have managed to  
keep it secret as well?"  
"Oh, yes....not a w-word to anybody."  
"I hope so for your sake."  
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Hawk?"  
"No, this will be quite a enough," Vincent sighed lifting the box a in a gloved hand.  
"Good day to you, Rudiger."  
"Oh, and a very good day to you too, Sir." the man responded, sweeping the  
pouch off the counter and into a drawer.  
Vincent turned, taking Griffin by the arm, "Come a long, Griffin. The air in here is  
getting to me."  
Griffin stared at the box in his father's hand wondering what could possibly be in it.  
It certainly didn't look like anything special. Just an old wooden box with a very small key  
hole. He certainly hadn't expected to go trekking through Knockturn Alley. He did have to  
admit that he'd always been a little curious, but after venturing into it's eerie shadows, he  
decided that he'd have rather spent his entire life being a little curious than to have visited  
"Rudiger's Market of Unexpected Items."  
  
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was probably one of the cleanest shops  
on Diagon Alley. The racks were neatly organized by garment type, size, and color.   
Several witches dressed in elegant robes were quickly flitting among the sizable selection  
of robes in search of the perfect fit for those who were here to make purchases.   
A rather pretty witch was standing on a small platform as a tape measure zipped  
around her making quick measurements while a piece of parchment, quill, and ink well  
floated nearby. The quill was dipping itself into the bronze well and hurriedly scratching  
out the woman's measurements, trying to keep up with the exuberant tape measure.  
A boy was being fitted by a rather dumpy looking witch who kept pausing to press  
her glasses back up her greasy nose. Nearby, an elderly witch was standing, scolding the  
boy about having to replace his robes every year.  
"I've never met a boy who went through as many robes as you. I'm telling you,  
Neville, if I have to replace another set of robes before the year is out I'm going to break  
your wand over that silly little head. How you managed to tear out the hem of your last  
robe I'll never know. And you'd better be more careful in potions class this year. I don't  
want to see another stain like you had 2 years ago. The name of Longbottom should  
mean more to you than that!"  
Griffin felt a twinge of pity for boy as the old hag continued to babble on and on,  
but Griffin lost track of it all as a slender looking woman approached him.  
"Hogwarts?" She asked as if she already knew the answer. Her robes seemed  
rather tight on her making her look even thinner than she actually was.  
"Yes, Ma'am." Griffin nodded.  
The woman nodded as she knew that this was going to be his answer and turned  
on her heel.  
"Follow me."  
He did, followed closely by his father who's heels were clicking on the wood  
paneled floor. The woman led him to a platform and motioned for him to step up, which  
he did. She then turned to Mr. Hawk, motioning with a very slender arm.  
"I am assuming you would like the best material we have to offer?"  
Vincent nodded without saying a word, then turned and began pawing through a  
rack of robes in his own size.  
She stared at him a moment before snapping her fingers and launching herself into  
a rack of nearby robes. A piece of parchment, followed closely by an ink well and quill  
floated into the air from a nearby table and began scribbling. A tape measure appeared out  
of nowhere beside Griffin's head and suddenly began making measurements. This tape  
measure was a bit less energetic than had been the one in Ollivanders. Griffin snickered as  
tickled under his arms, followed by a squeak as it flew up the inseam of his leg.  
"Hogwarts first year?"  
Griffin glanced to one side. A woman was standing there, hands on her hips with a  
pointed nose and yellow eyes. Her hair was silver in color and short, yet quite mussed,  
sticking out in all directions.  
"Yes, Ma'am." Griffin said.  
"So, what's you're name?"  
"Griffin, Ma'am. Griffin Hawk."  
"Nice to meet you, Griffin Hawk. My name is Madam Hooch. You wouldn't be  
the son of Vincent Hawk of Slytherin would you, now?  
"Yes, Madam Hooch." Griffin nodded toward his father who was examining a  
particularly shiny black robe.  
"Splendid," she said, "One of the best beaters we've ever had at Hogwarts."  
"Excuse me?" Griffin asked, unsure of what she meant.  
"I teach flying lessons at Hogwarts and mediate the Quidditch matches. You're  
father played beater on the Slytherin team for 5 years."  
"I never knew that."  
"I would imagine there are plenty of things you don't know about him," she said.   
"He was never one to brag about his own accomplishments. Though I will add that he  
sent several bludgers in my direction on more than one occasion. He was also one of the  
most skilled cheaters I've ever blown a whistle at."  
Griffin shrugged, not sure how to respond to this. She was a rather peculiar witch.   
He wondered if she had any Veela blood in her with those yellow eyes and silver hair.  
"Madam Hooch," said an approaching witch holding up a set of black and white  
robes. "I have the robes you ordered."  
"Splendid," Madam Hooch gestured, "I will be with you directly."  
She then turned to Griffin, "It was nice meeting you, Griffin. I'll be looking  
forward to see you at the first flying lesson. Good day to you."  
"Good day to you," Griffin responded.  
Oh, great, he thought. He really didn't like having to measure up to other people's  
expectations. If his father had played Quidditch, he'd be expected to do so as well.   
"Ouch," he cried as the tip of the tape measure snapped the tip of his nose. His  
eyes watered as he reached up and rubbed his nose with a couple of fingers.   
With a snap of her fingers the slender witch had returned with a robe. The tape  
measure, parchment, quill, and ink well disappeared with a pop.  
"I'll take your cloak," she said, "and then you may try this on."  
The robe was actually pretty comfortable, Griffin thought as he turned slightly  
from side to side, looking at himself in the mirror.   
"Hold still, now," the witch mumbled as she knelt down and began fixing the hem  
at his ankles.   
Vincent returned with a peculiar look across his face.  
"Was that Madam Hooch I saw speaking with you, Griffin?"  
"Yeah, she told me you used to play beater for Slytherin."  
"Did she now?" he said pleasantly with a small devilish chuckle. "She was always  
one of my favorite teachers."  
"She said you used to knock bludgers at her during the matches."  
"Oh, now," Vincent exclaimed placing a hand over his heart, "I wonder what ever  
gave her that idea. What an unexpected surprise to see her hear, but a pleasant one to be  
sure."  
There was a wicked gleam in his eye as Vincent led Griffin off the box and  
accepted the wrapped package which was his son's new school robe and hat.  
The rest of Griffin's supplies were purchased, to Griffin's great delight, without  
incident. Everything was laid out on his bed, organized, and ready to be packed away for  
next weeks journey to Hogwarts. His eyes ran over the shiny new brass scales, crystal  
phials, and potions set wondering what Professor Snape had thought him last week when  
he'd visited for dinner. His father had invited the tall, hook nosed wizard over for the  
purpose of introducing him to Griffin. Mr. Hawk fully expected Griffin to be sorted into  
Slytherin and wanted to make sure that he had a head start with becoming acquainted to  
the head of house before his arrival. Through the entire meal Snape had studied him with  
those beady little eyes as if Griffin were some sort of test subject under observation.  
Griffin knew that his own grandfather had been an alchemist but had never had an  
opportunity to meet him before his death. Of course since then, he'd had a few  
conversations with him in the family tree upstairs in the shop. But then Granny Grindy  
had many conversations with his grandfather which usually ended up in a shouting match  
which inevitably ended up waking everyone in the household.  
Griffin quietly began packing his things into a trunk which lay open on the floor.   
He couldn't help but feel a bit tight with glee at the prospect of starting school.   
"Griffin!" His mother called, "Dinner is served!"  
"Coming, Mum!"  
  
The dining room was probably one of the grandest rooms in Hawk Manor. From  
the massive, elegant crystal chandelier to the hand carved dining table and chairs gilded  
with gold and silver. The walls were draped in emerald silk tapestries embroidered with  
silver serpents. Mirrors covered the ceiling causing the room to seem twice as tall. The  
large underground chamber bore no windows, but was illuminated by hundreds of candles  
which floated freely about the room.  
As Griffin entered the room he found his mother sitting in her usual place at one  
end of the table. She was dressed in a set of mossy green robes trimmed in silver  
embroidery. The collar of her robe, wide and tall, rose behind her head and arced slightly  
downward at his upper edge. It was times like this when Griffin could feel the magical  
energy emanating from his parents. Though he knew this feeling was imagined, it was still  
rather potent.  
Vincent, seated at the opposite end, wore a pair of black trousers and silver vest  
draped in his black cape. His eyes were fixed on Griffin as the boy trodded into the room  
and plopped himself into a chair along one side of the table. Griffin has seen a few tender  
moments from his father today that he never knew him capable of. However, there was  
still an extremely hard edge to the man that Griffin greatly feared.  
With a snap of Vincent's fingers, golden dishes had appeared in front of the family  
followed shortly after by a line of bowls and platters of food which snaked their way  
through the air from the open kitchen doors. There was roast goose, quail, an assortment  
of vegetables, and several different types of pudding. The kitchenry began to circle the  
table dishing food onto the family's plates and pouring wine and pumpkin juice into their  
goblets.  
"So," began Rhonwyn, "did you enjoy your afternoon, Griffin? I'm sure you were  
able to find everything that you'll need."  
"Yes, Mother." Griffin responded. "And I've already packed everything."  
Mrs. Hawk chuckled. "You're certainly eager enough. I hope you find Hogwarts  
as enjoyable as your father and I did."  
"Now, tell me," she added, "what is this I hear about your wand?"  
Griffin grinned and pulled it from his belt, showing it to her. "It is rather odd, I  
have to admit."  
Rhonwyn pinched her eyes into slits as she studied the thing a moment before  
speaking.  
"I didn't know Ollivander dealt with this type of wand?"  
"He doesn't," Vincent growled as he brought up a hand, passing on the black  
pudding which was about to be dabbed onto his plate by a rather enthusiastic wooden  
spoon.  
"It seems that Zander Jawrinn has managed to create a new prototype wand," he  
snarled under his breath, yet loud enough to be sufficiently overheard. "Apparently he  
sent it to Ollivander for testing and it was then passed on to Griffin."  
"Surely he wouldn't sell something that wasn't of quality." Rhonwyn commented,  
lifting a pair of fingers to signal the bottle at her left side that her wine had reached an  
appropriate level in her goblet.  
"Quality or not, it is an embarrassment for a Hawk to own a wand with the core of  
mermaid hair! What will people think if this gets out? He certainly can't hide the fact that  
the thing looks like a bloody vine!"  
Griffin winced at the level of ferocity his father was reaching and quickly tucked  
his wand back into his belt. Out of sight out of mind, Granny Grindy always says.  
"Vincent," Rhonwyn interjected, "I see nothing wrong with the boy owning this  
type of wand. It certainly would not have chosen him if it wasn't meant to be. The  
Mermaid race is noble in its own right. It's a distinction for Griffin to be trusted with such  
a treasure. You know how difficult it is to locate mermaid hair for potions. It's not like  
they go around yanking hair out of their heads for just anybody!"  
Vincent glared at her a moment and turned, focusing on Griffin, his eyes boring  
into his son, deep in thought.  
Griffin shrunk in his chair, drawing his shoulders inward. His nose wrinkled in fear  
of his father. Over the past two years his father had become increasing agitated. Ever  
since the rumors of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's failure to return had reached the  
manor. He knew that his father had never been a Death Eater. He knew this for a fact  
because his father didn't bare the Dark Mark on his arm; the image of a skull with a snake  
slithering out of its gaping mouth which had been burned into the arms of He-Who-Must-  
Not-Be-Named's followers. Why the news was effecting his father in this way, Griffin was  
too terrified to guess.  
He managed a weak smile and said, "Mr. Ollivander did say that unexpected things  
would be in my future because of my wand."  
Vincent snorted in vein brushing aside a bowl of tripe which was trying to get his  
attention by circling his head.  
"Utter nonsense. Everyone has unexpected events which will surface in their  
future. His predictions are no more distinctive than that hag of a Divination Professor at  
Hogwarts. What's her name? Trelawney!"  
Mrs. Hawk plucked a piece of roast goose from her plate and popped it into her  
mouth. "Well, what's done is done, Vincent. No amount of shouting is going to change  
any of it. I don't know what I think of it all, myself, but I'm certainly not going to raise my  
voice about it. Besides, you're frightening the bowl of cabbage."  
Indeed, the bowl was lurking in a corner and shaking, nearly tossing its contents  
onto the marble floor.  
Vincent shook his head, "If I'd known Ollivander was going to go experimenting  
with a member of my family I surely would have accompanied in inside."  
"That is interesting, Vincent, now that you brought it up," she said. "Why didn't  
you go inside with Griffin?"  
A shadow passed over Mr. Hawk's face as he rapidly considered the unexpected  
question. His ears turned pink and he stabbed his spoon into a into a jar of marmalade  
ceasing its retreat toward the kitchen.   
"I wanted to speak with a friend of mine whom I haven't seen in quite some time. I  
noticed him lurking about one of the shops and wanted to pay him a visit."  
"Then surely --"  
"Enough!"  
Vincent had slammed the palm of his hand onto the table with a crash. To Griffin's  
horror the various pots and trays, bowls, and bottles suddenly fell to the floor splattering  
the tapestries and covering the floor in a mixture of multicolored mess. It was as if the  
dishes had suddenly had the life snuffed out of them.  
"I will not have my every decision questioned as if I had to make an account of my  
time spent!"  
Rhonwyn gasped, "Look what you did!"  
Vincent rolled on, " First wands then it will be something else. I will stamp these  
silly ideas out of his head before anything more embarrassing happens to this family.   
Think of what our friends would say if he ended up in Hufflepuff! No, Griffin will  
continue to carry on the family traditions and he will do so with great enthusiasm!"   
Vincent was now standing with a finger pointed toward the ceiling. If his head had  
a been a pot of tea there would be steam flourishing skyward from his ear.  
"Now," Vincent snarled, ramming himself into his seat. "I forbid anyone to speak  
another word during this meal. We will enjoy the food we have left and no one is going to  
spoil it by uttering another word."  
Griffin stared open mouthed at the chaos which surrounded them. He couldn't  
think of anything to say because there was simply nothing he could say. The scene which  
had just unfolded in front of him was something that he would later laugh hysterically  
about, but at the moment he was having difficulty believing that it had happened.  
Just when he thought things couldn't' get any worse, Granny Grindy floated into  
the room, her transparent body passing through the wall. Her eyes bulged as she took in  
the scene around her.  
"What in the devil have you people been doing in here," she screeched.  
Vincent didn't responded. He brooded over his food, quite viciously chewing a  
mouthful of quail into a pulp. Rhonwyn was overly exaggerating an attempt to delicately  
scoop up her food and chew it without showing her anger; which did just the opposite.  
"And was is all this shouting about? Vincent?"  
"I don't wish to speak with you now, mother." he growled.  
"Don't you take that tone with me, young man!"  
Granny flipped her hand through the air passing through the back of Vincent's head  
and out his forehead. The fact that she'd momentarily forgotten her transparent state  
seemed to frustrate her all the more. She crossed her arms and hovered beside him.  
"You've been having another tantrum haven't you?"  
"Griffin. Bed." Vincent ordered.  
"But I --"  
"I said bed. Now."  
Griffin rose from the chair and passed out of the room. He was in awe of what  
was going on and wanted to hear more. It wasn't fair that he was being dismissed. He  
ducked behind a cabinet just outside the door and peered around it, listening intently.  
"Granny," Rhonwyn began kindly, receiving a rather murderous glare from  
Vincent, "we were simply discussing the future of our son. It is over now and plead with  
you not to keep the pot a stirring."  
"There isn't a single pot stirring in this room because thanks to a rather obnoxious  
tantrum they've been spilled all over the floor. And as for you," she turned back to  
Vincent, pointing a boney finger at him which kept disapperaing in a tuft of his hair, "you  
leave my grandson alone. I don't want you badgering him and making him upset again.   
He's a sweet boy and I want to see him graduate from Hogwarts with distinction. There  
are enough scarred children in the world. There's no use in creating another one!"  
Mr. Hawk turned on her now, his voice a notch softer "You think I don't want the  
best from my son? I want him to graduate with distinction as much as you, but I won't  
have these bloody miscreants like Ollivander and Jawrinn encouraging him into becoming  
something that he certainly is not."  
"And what's that, might I ask? They are simply encouraging him to explore his  
future with determination and a little insight into life; something that would have done you  
some good at his age."  
Vincent stood without a word and passed from the room.  
Griffin quickly drew back, flattening himself against the wall to avoid detection as  
his father walked passed him.   
"Mother," said Mrs. Hawk, "Don't you think you were a little harsh?"  
"No harsher than he was, I'm sure."  
"He does care deeply for Griffin."  
"I know he does, Dear. I just hope he isn't getting over his head with this  
Voldemort business, secret meeting and the like. You know very well why he didn't go  
into Ollivanders today."  
"Yes, I know."  
"But I don't want Griffin worrying about his father just now. He has Hogwarts to  
prepare for. This would only upset him."  
"You're right, Dear. It would upset him. Very much, I'm sure." 


End file.
